One Hundred Poems, Volume IX Read online

as means to affront,

  But no matter your action - I see you a mere cunt,

  Because your butt hurt has spewed out front,

  As you howl and growl like a mere grunt,

  For once seeing the truth right in front,

  By hearing that simple word cunt,

  You have spilled your strunt,

  And you are a mere cunt,

  Wounded ego to hunt.

  Back to work?

  It is the last day of a holiday,

  Now it is time to jump into the fray,

  Without allowing any moment slip away,

  Because sleeping all days will lead you astray,

  As laziness comes with its own burdensome weigh,

  And now is the moment to cast it off like ashes on a tray.

  Moment of pessimism?

  There glows the sun,

  At the end of a battle won,

  You cannot recall distance run,

  Not even deeds that had to be done,

  Yet it will become a mere story to a son,

  And it will send him grab a sword or a gun,

  A cycle that none could ever hope see undone,

  So they march onwards like it was some story fun,

  Never hearing how the ticking of a death clock begun,

  And if they are lucky - they will live to see their grandson,

  But only the fools dream that this cycle will have its last spun,

  As human nature will never change underneath this same old sun?

  I hope for ever more fools so one day it is distant stars where we run.

  Brexit?

  Today giant cogs begin to turn,

  As Great Britain bids to adjourn,

  Leave the husk of Europe to burn,

  And for some it is a real concern,

  For they would prefer to return,

  Ever desperate for any u-turn,

  The pain causes a heartburn,

  But it is something to unlearn,

  There is a reality to discern,

  Great falsehoods to spurn,

  You have no reason to churn,

  So stand tall and become stern,

  There are fruits of labour to earn,

  And freedom that many yearn,

  Once freed from a rotting carcass?

  'Two European Leaders'

  If you do not like Theresa May,

  You can try vote her out on next election day.

  If you do not like Jean-Claude Juncker,

  You cannot - not even if the man becomes drunker.

  These four lines explain why the union can only face failure,

  It condenses the entirety of the problem's nature,

  Nothing exist to correct behaviour,

  It cannot maintain favour.

  How could anyone joust Jean-Cloude Juncker from his office?

  It would take decades and this plan is not flawless,

  But there is an option more nauseous,

  By means that are lawless.

  Therefore, European Union is headed towards political violence,

  As problems continue to spiral to the size leviathan,

  Someone will refuse to suffer in quietness,

  And so comes an act of violence.

  The day many have dreaded?

  Soon comes the day many have dreaded,

  How they wish it wasn't direction they are headed,

  How they long to see the day itself shredded,

  Perhaps out of being plain hardheaded,

  They chant for him to get beheaded,

  Or perhaps literally lightheaded,

  As they hate how their bed was bedded,

  They can only lash out and threaten,

  Declare that he shouldn't set in,

  Because they will not let in,

  Yet their numbers lessen?

  And that is the lesson.

  It will be just another day,

  And it is an honest thing to say,

  As time whisks all false fears away,

  Reveals how the much oval office weighs,

  A burden upon the shoulders of its latest entree.

  Thus whether it is for the better or worse,

  No matter how some might curse,

  Or make attempts to coerce,

  What is to reimburse?

  He was elected,

  One voters selected.

  How did that song go again?

  If you are upset and you know it - kick a public trash can,

  If you are upset and you know it - smash any store window,

  If you are upset and you know it - call people literally Hitler,

  If you are upset and you know it - 'smash capitalism' at a 7/11,

  If you are upset and you know it - no matter what you might do,

  At the end of the day, Donald J. Trump, is still your president!

  "#WomensMarch"

  (It should have an apostrophe in it.)

  Are women finally protesting horrors of the Middle-East?

  No, they are screeching because of their self-inflicted yeast.

  Are women finally protesting horrors of the Saharan Africa?

  No, and this march of theirs will soon run out of all stamina.

  Are women finally protesting against horrors they do not suffer?

  No, effort beyond pointless virtue signalling makes them shudder.

  Are women finally seeing problems beyond their very own vagina?

  No, you might just as well ask if cars can be fixed with mere saliva.

  Oh, and whoever was holding that pink sign with the word: 'SAD,'

  It summed the entire women's march without anything left to add.

  Gender Marxists

  Gaze upon that red flag,

  As it is held high as if to brag,

  Some think it more than a dish rag,

  As they have devised a symbol to scrag,

  A new slave collar to make make necks sag.

  A circle formed out of hammer and sickle,

  With gender symbols for the fickle,

  You would never pay a nickel,

  For construction so brickle.

  Its appearance is one of dread,

  And many forget the lessons of dead,

  The human price wherever such flags tread.

  There it was among the women's march,

  And I hope that its fate is to parch.

  Or how many will Gender Marxist slaughter?

  Despicable behaviour

  > Whenever the right goes low,

  > The left strives to dig a hole.

  Imagine being ten and called a date rapist,

  Because your dad triggered someone thinking himself an '-ist.'

  Imagine being ten and called a school shooter,

  Because your dad triggered a self proclaimed public prosecutor.

  Imagine being ten and called an animal torturer,

  Because your dad triggered someone by looking like a northerner.

  Imagine being ten and that no matter what you do,

  Because your dad triggered gormless wankers - they now lash at you.

  You would hope for human decency to leave the family out,

  But they find themselves at wits end and so they spout,

  Whatever springs to their mind without a doubt,

  Because they lost what the plot was about,

  For the hole dug is now their dugout,

  And they cannot even climb out,

  Piss and shit starts to clout.

  White river

  For a passing moment,

  When the river is not flowing,

  There is a sight beyond a comment,

  For a white snake has stopped its roaming,

  A beast fallen asleep after gorging its opponent,

  Resting now but insatiable hunger will send it rolling,

  The peace of the white river will be shattered and broken.

  Reform or revolution

  Today's Mexico is rife with corruption,

 
And daily violence is more than a societal disruption,

  Therefore leaving northwards appears to be the better option,

  The ability to leave is the pressure valve on reform and revolution,

  And the very reason why this nation lingers on the verge of destruction.

  Desperation has always given courage to go against the odds,

  For slaves to endure and push against their master's rods,

  For people to look up and defy the absolutes of gods,

  And even tear apart heavily armoured squads,

  A back against a wall leaves no fa?ades.

  With Trump's wall and deportation,

  Mexico will face a reform or a revolution,

  Without a way to flee they shall seek a solution,

  And in their misery there will be no other absolution,

  Than solve corruption that plagues Mexico's institutions.

  Mexico has the potential to become so much more,

  But remains crippled by cartels and drug war,

  And how could young minds ever soar,

  If all they can see is crime and gore,

  With a garbage heap for floor.

  Reform or revolution,

  One of them leads to a solution,

  The current status quo provides no absolution.

  Generic villain species (For a science fiction novel)

  Gaze upon the world,

  Said the old man gnarled,

  Hoping for a shred of mercy,

  But it gave no stop their flurry,

  He was bashed down just as well,

  And afterwards none could tell,

  There was no sense in their doing,

  Even among the torched ruins,

  Their band had to move on,

  Like beasts fleeing dawn,

  Their rocket ships flew,

  To seek worlds anew,

  Without asking why,

  They fight and die.

  Suspended from Twitter

  When you get suspended,

  It will arrive out of the blue,

  No telling what needs amended,

  For no guilty tweet appears in view.

  Some send death threads every day,

  But if it is towards right targets,

  There is not that much to say,

  It is shrugged under carpets.

  But were you to ask a question,

  On a topic you are not supposed to,

  Twitter treats it as the most foulest notion,

  And with suspension your tweets are out of view.

 

  Thus suspension is nothing but a badge of honour,

  Whoever gets suspended is senseless at best,

  At this rate Twitter is bound to be goner,

  It fails rudimentary free speech test.

  > Free speech was all Twitter had,

  > 140 characters to write out your thoughts,

  > Without - it is just a web-page that is kind of bad,

  > And soon the users left are nothing but humourless